


Vom Feuer

by Mieldyne



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Bonding, Developing Relationship, Gen, Origin Story, Reminiscing, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22609414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mieldyne/pseuds/Mieldyne
Summary: An ember grows into a wild flame.
Relationships: Janos Audron & Vorador
Kudos: 4
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Vom Feuer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CarlyChameleon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlyChameleon/gifts).



It was almost like a dream. The day that an angel with dark wings had come down when he was young, long robes and hair draping about him like shadows. His arms long and extended out to him as he was perched upon the air itself, gracefully fluttering down like a great blue-and-black spirit, golden eyes gentle and inviting even as those hands… those _talons_ were not. Yet the nameless boy - nearly a man - would not find himself victim to whatever reason this dark angel had for him, nor to bleed under his claws. 

Instead, he was met with a kind heart, a warm smile, and a voice that spoke so softly to him that he couldn’t even begin to describe the beauty of. From there he was embraced, unwittingly falling for the allure of this creature who he soon realized is no angel at all. Cold to the touch and without a proper pulse, this being is as dead as his family are around him in graves marked with stones and holy symbols, to keep the monsters away. Except this one. This gentle soul who held him close as he was spirited away to a high place overlooking all of Nosgoth, in view of the great pillars.

There, he was given a name, a purpose, and a reason to live well beyond what was expected of a human.

“Vorador.” His dark angel had spoken softly, after careful consideration. It’s a name that held weight, had meaning, and described the purpose of his existence after his recruitment. He is the man who smiths these winged creators the weapons and armor they needed en masse. Outfitting an entire army of airborne warriors who all had seen him as beneath them… except him. The one who had given him his name, who had taught him to read, to speak multiple languages and the one who had placed the hammer into his willful hands. He was different than the others, who had come to his aid against his own kin and who had given him a voice and the respect rightfully earned as he was ultimately given the task to make a masterpiece.

The weapon to be gifted to the Champion.

The Reaver.

It is only at that time that the others around him and his companion, his father figure and beloved friend, finally saw him as more than just a blacksmith, more than just some  _ mortal _ or a servant. And that is how he got here today, being so willing to take on the gift of eternal life at the cost of borderline insanity at the hands of a hungry beast within his veins as long as he lives.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience in the eyes of the ancient ones, yet Vorador was just too lost in the moment to care. The trials and labors he was put through had the benefit of preparing him for the near torturous embrace he’d receive from his angel. The same angel, now with his greying tresses cut above his shoulders and his robes a lighter tone, who sits with him among good company. Every so often they both would recline in the luxurious vampire’s nest and remember so far back, to when the blacksmith and father of the modern vampire had a different kind of pulse and tanned, flecked skin. Born and raised povert, but given a new home and purpose that night he was whisked away by him.

Janos Audron.

Given a name, a purpose and a new father when he had previously lost his to war, disease and famine. The winged, blue fleshed creatures who had taken him in weren’t exactly as kind as they are beautiful, but Janos stood out among them, teaching him and seeing through to the ultimate reward to him, Vorador. The blessing and curse of the ancient ones via sharing of the blood after bleeding the smith’s veins dry. Many times after that did Vorador relinquish his veins to his mentor, best friend and sire, to drink and be drank from as casually as one would have a pleasant conversation while resting within the cushions of comfort.

And it is here, as Vorador raises his goblet to the older vampire, that he remembers what was said that night. 

“Vorador.” Janos had said, blood -  _ his _ blood - dribbling down his chin in streams while he is held by this angel of darkness.

“You will be reborn anew, live on to remember and be remembered. Time will no longer reach you and lay into you with her claws. No longer will you be burned by disease or further growth. You are eternal...”

It was ritualistic, honorable. To be fed that thick vitae from his mentor’s breast to nearly flooring him under his sudden hunger spiking was… liberating. He roared once it was over, hearing words of praise as well as curses as he stood over the weary body of Janos, still existing in his unlife with wings spread against the white polished stone as if he were placed there. Vorador felt that connection, that cord that permanently ties the two of them together, and which remains true to this very moment, as they sit beside one another.

And Janos gazes upon him just as he did before, offering his breast once again.

A bonding that never ceased, beginning with laughter and fond memory of feasts and debaucherous parties that the ancient one never once refused to attend. Once in a blue moon, they do this for one another, where Vorador’s lips would find pale sky cool skin and drink, feeling that surge of life and power sparking his nerve ends as if he were alive again. Janos runs those talons over his face, aged and leathery green, as the child he reared into taking from him again. Their bonding this way is just as welcome, warming and quite needed as speaking to one another is, even thousands of years after the fact.

Vorador wants it, needs it. If there is any one person he could truly call friend, it is this angel in white.

And Janos would do the same, allow Vorador to give to him even after chuckles and more reminiscing happens even as freshly spilled blood stains his robes.


End file.
